


Facets

by nightfalltwen



Series: The Abroad Saga [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-10
Updated: 2012-02-10
Packaged: 2017-10-30 21:20:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/336283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightfalltwen/pseuds/nightfalltwen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After finding out that Pansy has been cast aside by the Malfoys, Theodore returns to England and offers to take her away from the mess.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Facets

**Author's Note:**

> Especially written for **tarotemp** and **cryptaknight**. Chronologically occurs before both **Cherry Blossoms** and **My Letter to You**. Features boy!Tracey Davis from the RPG **honour_bright** because I loved him so.

_September, 2002_

Theodore Nott's return to England was closely monitored by the Ministry. He had expected this, of course, what with the Ministry being rife with righteous Gryffindors thumping their fists against the desks to bark at the injustice of a nasty, nasty Slytherin being able to roam free. Never mind that he had made a substantial donation to St. Mungo's or that he had never appeared at the final battle. His colours were green and silver and that would never be good enough in the lions' eyes.

It begged the question: why had Theodore Nott returned to England in the first place? The last reports had him settled at some expansive villa in Tuscany with rumours of an number of secretive business trips to Moscow. The Ministry's contacts hadn't made a single mention of him deciding to return to England.

Though that certainly had something to do with the fact that Theodore hadn't passed along such information to the people he knew were in cahoots with the Ministry.

So, as Theodore sat at a small café table in Diagon Alley, sipping on a horribly made espresso (the English could never master the art of coffee) and reading an old edition of _The Daily Prophet_ , the Hit Wizards assigned to keep tabs on him scratched their heads in confusion. He was up to something; they just didn't know what it could be.

"Theodore Nott. Well aren't you just the very last person I'd expect to see here," a low voice that had a smirk even in its tone, spoke from behind. 

Theodore didn't look up from the article he was reading. The thing about being in the background and always observing is that one got to know the voices of one's housemates quite easily. "Merriweather Tracey Davis." He turned a page. "Are you going to stand there staring at me or are you going to sit down?"

"I swear, I'm going to kill Daphne for letting that name spill after the Yule Ball." Merriweather, who always and only went by Tracey Davis, pulled back the chair on the other side of Theodore and sat down. Born at the tail end of August, Tracey Davis had _just_ squeaked into the year before Theodore, though he always managed to spend most of his time with the students in the year below. He also managed to be one of the luckier Slytherins, off the radar when it came to accusatory finger-pointing. One of Tracey's eyebrows raised, the Slytherin symbol for curiosity or just about every other emotion that was out there. "So what drags you back to the bog that is our Britannia? Last I heard you were taking vows in Tibet."

A smile crossed Theodore's face briefly. That _had_ been one of his better rumours. He turned the paper he'd been reading, a two-day-old issue, back to its front page and passed it across to Tracey. The headline and photo flipped back and forth between _Jilted Lover! Pansy Parkinson passed over for Malfoy Wife!_ and _Draco Malfoy to wed Astoria Greengrass in three weeks: An heir on the way?_ as well as accompanying pictures of the happy couple and Pansy's expressionless face that only the most observant could tell was positively raging beneath the surface.

"Yes, isn't that quite the thing?" asked Tracey, pushing his hair out of his eyes as he picked up the paper. "No one suspected that anything was amiss with Pansy and Draco. . . Then suddenly I hear all this news about how Draco's marrying Daphne's little sister and talk of her being up the duff . . . Blah, blah et cetera, et cetera."

Theodore's lips pressed together in a thin line. To know that one of his dearest friends was now being splashed across the _Prophet_ simply to sell papers irritated him to no end. She absolutely did not deserve to be treated like this and he wasn't about to stand for the Wizarding World turning the poor girl into a laughing stock. It was this, and this alone, that had brought Theodore back to England.

"Tracey, do me a favour?" Theodore placed a galleon down on the table and moved his saucer so it half covered it. "Don't mention you saw me to any of our classmates."

A rather undignified snort came from Tracey and a half smile appeared. "I can't imagine that they'd ever find anything out from me. I don't really talk to them much. Either I'm too busy with a new film project or I'm rubbing Mandy's feet."

Theodore was not surprised at this admission. He made it his business to know what was happening with his former school mates and it was well known that M. Tracey Davis had decided that he would pursue a career in the Muggle world instead of the Wizarding. Theodore didn't put much weight in the Muggle film industry, but he was aware of it and from what he'd seen (having caught one of Tracey's independent films at Cannes), it actually seemed to _fit_ the elder Slytherin's personality, which was a little less subtle than his classmates'. The other bit of information was also not a surprise. The rather bookish Mandy Brocklehurst had caught Tracey's eye a couple of years ago and their wedding had been large enough to make society pages in both Muggle and Wizarding papers. Theodore had sent them a first edition collection of Molière plays as a wedding present, something that would appeal to both the actor in Tracey and the book lover in Mandy.

Never let it be said that Theodore Nott didn't know how to pick out the perfect gift.

"How is your wife, then?" It was only polite to ask, even if Theodore really didn't care all that much. He knew enough about this Brocklehurst-Davis union to know that it was strong and far from breaking down. Which, in a way, seemed alright.

"Better now that the morning sickness has gone away," said Tracey with a Cheshire cat smile on his face, looking inordinately pleased with the fact that his family was about to gain a member. He got up from his seat and held out his hand to Theodore. "I'd say to come by the house. . . seeing Mandy insist that you eat would be rather amusing. . . but I'm going to guess your stay isn't going to be a long one."

"You'd be correct. If I stay too long, I suspect the Gryffindors will be marching down the road with torches. You know how irrational they can be." Theodore's eyes flicked to the outstretched hand. He was not accustomed to receiving friendly gestures. It was all Slytherins are bad and evil and always are and always will be or you're just a bloody traitor, Nott, turning your back on your own kind. But he awkwardly took the proffered hand and shook it.

"Keep in touch, Theo."

"I just might, Merriweather," Theodore answered, intentionally using Tracey's hated first name as a reminder that he, himself, wasn't fond of having his name foreshortened.

He really didn't have any intention on keeping that promise.

***

For years now, the Parkinson family had owned a posh Muggle-style flat in the neighbourhood of Marylebone. Herbert Parkinson had once claimed it as bachelor accommodations prior to his marriage. After his wedding, he had used the sprawling three-bedroom as a home away from home where, over the years, he could enjoy many a rendezvous with a long line of mistresses. The Muggle nature of the flat was to keep Madam Parkinson from travelling to it easily. Herbert had a prediliction for Muggle women, which disgusted his wife to no end and had to be kept explicitly secret from the entire Wizarding world. It would do no good for the family in the slightest to have something like this come to light.

When Pansy was old enough, and to keep her rumour-free, as Herbert would not allow his only daughter to _move in_ with the Malfoy boy, the flat had been passed down. Herbert was no longer young and spry so he gladly gave up the stress of keeping women on the side for the sake of his only daughter. The flat was renovated, a Floo was added and many magical wards were set up.

This was the first time Theodore had seen it.

Now, approaching a warded home of a Wizard was generally a difficult thing to do. It was as if the perimeter was surrounded by glass that one could not see. In retrospect, Theodore thought perhaps it would have been better had he sent an owl ahead of time so that Pansy could remove some of the nastier wards. But in doing so it would allow for reporters from all manner of tasteless magazines to get closer to her. And Theodore couldn't possibly ask her to do that.

So it took him about three discreet hours to carefully pick his way through the different wards until he stood face to face with Pansy's door inside the building.

He used the handle of his wand to knock softly on the polished wood.

The door didn't open but a tiny elf appeared and stared up at Theodore with monstrously large eyes. He wasn't surprised to see the elf wearing a very clean pillowcase. Unlike the Malfoys who had only allowed their elf to wear a dirty sack until Potter helped the elder Malfoy grant it freedom, Pansy did not mistreat her elf. Blippy was given a fresh pillowcase every day. Though it wasn't clothes, at least it was clean. Which made sense considering how much Pansy detested dirt of any kind.

"Missy Parkinson doesn't want to see anyone!" The elf's voice was just as squeaky as Theodore remembered.

"Hello, Blippy. I think if you tell her that Theodore is here, she'll change her mind."

"Oh Noooo. Blippy is under strict instructions and can't let anyone come in," the elf whinged and began pulling at the bottom of her pillowcase. "Missy will throw Blippy out into the streets with _clothes_."

"I'll go in without your permission or announcement if you don't go and ask properly," Theodore threatened. Oh how he hated lowering himself to threatening an elf, but sometimes it was the only way to get things done and judging by the speed at which Blippy disappeared, he figured that the threat had worked.

Theodore stood and waited for a good ten minutes before he was granted entrance by a shaking house elf. She peered up at him, her eyes shining with tears and a rather large bruise on her forehead. He never did like the self-punishment of House Elves. It was one of the reasons why his home was only staffed by human servants. Oh human servants had their downside. Most, if not all, of them were either Squibs, which meant that they weren't able to do the sorts of things that House Elves were able to do. But Theodore enjoyed the conversations with his manservant more than he enjoyed conversing with squeaky-voiced, third-person speaking elves.

"Missy is not happy, but she will let you come in."

"As I knew she would. Thank you, Blippy."

Without hesitating to admire the antique Louis XV chairs in the foyer, something he would have done had this been an entirely different visit all together, Theodore strode into the flat and into the reception room. Pansy always said that greeting guests in any other room, even coming to meet them at the front door, was entirely too gauche and she would never be caught dead doing something as blasé as that. And don't get her started on conversations in the kitchen.

She had a three page lecture on the subject memorised.

As expected, Pansy was waiting for him in the reception room. She sat primly on the edge of a pristine, white settee and did not stand when he entered. To the untrained eye, she looked the picture of calm. Everything about her was neat and coiffed. The pleats of her skirt were sharp as razors seemed to compliment the rather disapproving look that she was giving him.

Theodore noticed, as he tended to notice things that others didn't, that her face had been freshly scrubbed. Although she had managed to reapply whatever it was she was wearing on her lips these days, her cheeks and forehead were pink and a bit shiny from the quick wash. And if that wasn't evidence enough, the tiny hairs around her hairline were damp. Damp enough that she couldn't completely hide it, or perhaps she hadn't wanted to. None of this served to mask the fact that her eyes were red and still a bit puffy.

"Theodore Nott, I would have expected better than you. Showing up on my doorstep without even sending an owl ahead of time and then ordering _my_ elf around as if you were in charge? Have you no sense of propriety? Any decent person would have at least given me the chance to prepare to receive you properly."

"And when have you known me to be anything like anyone else?" Theodore said, moving to sit on the settee next to her.

Pansy snapped her fingers and Blippy appeared with a large silver tea service. It was enough to feed a small army and would mostly go to waste because neither Slytherin could eat all of if in one sitting. Theodore reached for a slice of bright lemon to place into one of the gleaming cups. The teapot itself raised up into the air and poured; the flowery bergamot scent began to float around the room. If there was one thing that he knew he could count on, it was being served an exceptional cuppa at the residence of a Parkinson.

The two sat in silence for what could have been minutes, but also could have been hours. Both were comfortable with merely the presence of one another's company. It was as it had been in school. Especially during sixth year when things started to go arse-backwards within the Slytherin dorms, when there were so many whispers of marks, who had them and who did not, and Draco's strange comings and goings. It was a definitive change for all of them. When the phrases "watch your back" and "sleep with one eye open" took on much more meaning than they ever had before. And throughout it all, Pansy would seek out his company, as if she were looking for something to remain completely the same.

Though it had all changed, hadn't it?

"Draco Malfoy is a fool," Theodore said finally after finishing his tea and setting the cup and saucer back onto the tea tray. "Everyone knows that the Greengrass family is no better than any other of the _Nouveau Riche_. He is marrying into a family with no breeding just for the sake of a name."

Pansy made a non-committal noise and turned her head to look out the window. Theodore could see that she was grinding her back teeth to keep words at bay. Surprising. Pansy Parkinson was not known to hold her tongue even in the most dire of circumstances. And yet here she was, keeping her thoughts to herself. It was terribly obvious that her feelings for Draco ran quite deep and she was not about to start insulting him with Theodore just to make herself feel better.

So upon discovering that, Theodore decided he would use another tactic.

"Pack your things." He daubed the side of his lips with a napkin.

"I don't need you to come galloping in on a white horse to save me, Theodore." Pansy finally turned her gaze back to him. "And I'm not about to turn tail and run as though I'm some sort of wounded dog looking for a place to lick my wounds. How dare you even suggest such a thing."

"Tch. That's exactly what you need, Pansy, whether you care to admit it or not. It's also one of your favourite fantasies if memory serves me correctly. I apologise for the lack of chiselled pectorals and long, golden hair blowing in the wind, but I do have quite a lot of money and a large estate in Tuscany where you will be entirely too distracted to even remember you have wounds to lick."

It took a moment before he heard it. The withering sigh. When that occurred, Theodore knew he'd won this round.

***

_October, 2002_

_Parkinson Heiress Flees Country! Secret Malfoy Lovechild to be Born as Foreigner!_

"When is this ever going to blow over, Theodore?" Pansy asked sadly as she broke a cantuccini in half and before popping a piece into her mouth; she took a very large gulp of Vin Santo. 

The paper had arrived in the late afternoon, as it normally did for out-of-country subscribers and had Theodore been given the chance, he would have made short work of the rag with an _Incendio_ charm before she'd seen the headlines. It was bad enough when they were calling her a jilted lover, but now the theory was that she was bearing a bastard child. Why he still even gave the papers in England any money for this was beyond him, but Pansy had requested that he keep on his subscription so she could keep track of things back home.

The very last rays of early October sunlight streaked the sky with orange and near red. Tuscany in the Autumn was lovely. The Summer tourists had left for home and the harvest begun. Cartloads of grapes to the presses and light Summer fare gave way to hearty vegetable dishes and roasts. Everything felt golden and warm in the Autumn even if the weather had started to cool off. It was Theodore's favourite season and he was determined to spend every single one of his Autumns in Tuscany if it was the last thing he did.

When they'd arrived, Pansy had spent a good portion of her time walking the grounds. This reserved and quiet demeanour was a side of his Housemate that Theodore had not seen before. Even in sixth year when Draco was pushing every single person away and she had come to him crying and frustrated at being shunned by her long-time boyfriend it had been all screams and tears and throwing of lamps. Which was a shame. The lamp was an antique.

It got to a point where he'd grown tired of seeing her like this and without warning took her to Milan for an impromptu shopping trip. Ah, that was where Pansy had started to come back out of the shell she'd backed herself into. There was nothing in the world, she told him after they were finished, that could make a girl feel better about herself than a pair of Manolo Blahniks or a Versace handbag. Theodore guessed that there was probably something else, but he was happy to indulge her this superficial fix. But the high of new shoes quickly wore off and she'd slipped back into the sad creature she'd been before he had even tried.

"You know the press, Pansy. They're like vultures. Until they've picked this story clean from all angles, they won't ever let up." And since the official statement from Astoria's healer was that she was _not_ carrying a child, they had turned back to squeezing out stories on the subject of Pansy.

"I thought it was bad when they were still calling me a Death Eater," she said, looking out toward the rolling vineyard that covered the next property over. Workers still threaded through the rows like ants, their scarf-clad heads bobbing up and down as they cut bunches of grapes.

"For the record, _I_ never thought you were a Death Eater." Theodore let a smile find its way onto his face. "I happen to know, in detail, your position on tattoos and other body modification."

"Thank you!" Pansy lightly tapped the table with the flat of her hand. "Everyone believed I was this horrible girl for what I said about Potter during that last battle. Traitorous Slytherin, evil to the end. I just wanted it all to be _over_. And the thought of letting some ugly man mark _my_ skin up? I think not."

"Who is everyone?" Resting his arms on the edge of the table, Theodore steepled his fingers and touched his thumbs to his lower lip.

Pansy looked at him. "What do you mean?"

"Who is grouped into this 'everyone' that you talk about? Because if you're talking about the rest of our Housemates, they're all beneath you anyhow and if you're talking about Gryffindors. . . what does it matter? They're _Gryffindors_ and why you would consider their opinion to be important is absurd. I certainly didn't."

"And look where it drove you," Pansy said dryly.

Theodore could see that her hackles were starting to raise up. It actually relieved him because although he was enjoying the company, it was a hollow version of Pansy, whom he knew was quite passionate, and he was starting to wonder if it had been a good idea to take her away from the world she seemed to be most comfortable wallowing in.

"I chose to make my own way and I hardly care what the peons below me say about my life. You shouldn't either. You're a queen bee, Pansy Parkinson. Not a drone."

"You ran away from everyone! You ran away from me!" Pansy's face had gone a rather unattractive shade of pink. "You weren't on trial for anything and you disappeared. Then you show up three years later and just whisk me away to your magical villa in Italy? Because a few pairs of shoes and a purse might make up for the fact that you abandoned me along with everyone else?! You are an awful, _awful_ person, Theodore Nott and I can't stand to look at you!"

Theodore stood up and gathered the sections of _The Prophet_ , folding them neatly under his arm. Pansy continued to scowl at him and he continued not to speak to her. As he turned away, he heard her chair scrape back across the stone patio. He'd not managed to get more than a few steps before she grabbed his arm, her fingers curling tightly around it.

"Where are you going?" she demanded.

He hesitated for a moment, looking first at her hand and then at her face. "If you can't stand to look at me, Pansy, then I shall remove myself from your sight."

"Stop it!" She stamped her foot, looking every bit more like the old Pansy he knew and remembered. "Stop being so maddeningly _calm_! That's all you've done since I came with you. Calm tones and calm body language and. . . Calm!!"

The funny thing was, Theodore had always been like this. When she threw fits during sixth year and came to him wailing about how awful Draco was being to her, he didn't raise his voice or shake his fist at the world alongside her. Theodore was a calculating Slytherin. Always observing until he knew the exact place to insert a careful barb or a distinct nudge. His ambition lay with subterfuge and whispered suggestions. He would get his way by influencing someone without them realising that he was doing so.

A sigh escaped from his lips. "What do you want, then, Pansy?"

Somehow over the course of this exchange she'd found her fire, which actually relieved Theodore more than he cared to admit. Angry Pansy he was fine with. Moping Pansy. . . Not so much. 

"Shout at me! Let me shout back at you! Don't just sit there quietly and let me be sad and pitiful; be angry with me. Why aren't you as angry as I am? Somehow we got the shite end of the stick and you're alright with it? You should be furious. Angry at a world that says we don't deserve to be around and don't deserve to be loved or have love or be happy!" She managed to let go of his arm, a frustrated growl of a sound bursting from her throat. "He threw me away! I even took him back after everything and he still threw me away! It's not fair, Theodore. All I ever wanted was to have someone be madly in love with me and I get pushed aside for a _Greengrass_."

Without realising what he was doing at first, Theodore reached over to her and cupped his hand to her cheek. She slapped it away and buried her face in her hands. A slight frown crossed his face and he tried again, this time tucking a loose curl behind her ear. She took a step back from him and lowered her hands enough to peek at him over the tips of her fingers. There was almost a dare in her narrowed eyes as if challenging him to touch her again. Part of him said he should stop as he would most likely lose a finger or worse. But the other part called her bluff and he took a larger step closer to her so there were nearly toe to toe.

"Aren't we a little old to play this game, Pansy?"

"I'm _cross_ with you," she said behind her hands, but didn't move away from him.

"So what would you have me do? Charge back to England and hex Draco Malfoy for wronging you?"

Pansy dropped her hands. "Would you?"

"No."

His answer to her wasn't completely honest. Sometimes it took a great deal of strength to keep from Apparating right to England to throttle Malfoy within an inch of his life. Pansy and Theodore never did have the history that her and Draco had, but their friendship was of a different sort and quite probably twice as strong. He was overwhelmingly protective of her. It was the only explanation he could come up with for having dropped everything to take her away from that godforsaken rock of a country that he once called home.

One of the servants came out to collect the dishes and Theodore realised they'd been standing there for some time just staring at each other. His hand had made its way to her shoulder, thumb brushing the slope of her collarbone. Sometimes Pansy could be all angles and sharp, but he never found that she held that façade long when he was with her. She wet her lips expectantly, her eyes flicking back and forth as if she couldn't hold his gaze for long. In that moment he made a decision. Stepping back, Theodore turned away from her and picked a stray piece of lint from his shirt. He looked at her once before he started back up to the house.

"Wait!" She called after him. "Aren't you going to kiss me?"

He glanced over his shoulder at her and a rather smug smile appeared. "No, Pansy," he called back. "Not yet."

***

_November 2002_

For weeks Theodore and Pansy skirted around each other in an intricate dance of friendship and hints of wanting more. From both sides. Pansy was more direct with her intentions because, of the two, she was definitely the more passionately physical. Often she would arrive for breakfast and as she passed around behind his chair her fingertip would drag lightly across the back of his neck. In Theodore's case, he would merely put down whatever book he was reading at the time and watch her with a steady gaze until he cheeks flushed.

The two would speak for hours about everything. From the current financial markets, to the latest fashion trends, to their absolute horror at the sheer amount of articles on Potter's upcoming nuptials to the Weasley female. On the bright side of all that, Pansy was no longer a feature story as the papers had set their sights elsewhere. But it still never failed to turn their stomachs to read such atrocious drivel. It was almost worse than the terribly unflattering picture of Astoria in her wedding dress robes.

Really. One should only be allowed to wear so much tulle before it needed to be declared a crime against fashion.

On the second weekend of November, Theodore took Pansy to San Miniato for the white truffle fair. The accommodations were small, a tiny flat in the village that was nowhere near the size of his home miles away. They slept on narrow beds in the same room and shared a single bathroom. Pansy tied a handkerchief over her hair, wore trousers and proclaimed herself quaint and perfectly able to fit in with the villagers. Theodore had to keep from laughing.

They ate far too much, drank far too much and slept for far too long.

"I'm thinking of taking a job, Pansy," Theodore said suddenly and waved away a slender waiter with a large pepper mill.

"Well I hardly think truffle harvesting is for you, Theodore, but if your heart is set on it, then who am I to stand in your way? I just ask that you don't name your hog after me or I might be forced to slaughter you."

"Actually, I was thinking a Ministry job."

She put down her fork and wiped the edge of her mouth with a napkin. "You can't be serious. You actually want to go _back_ to England? When you have all this?"

"My father invested his galleons wisely, but I can't expect to live off them forever without replenishing that which I've spent." He speared a piece of pasta with his fork, careful to include a shaved bit of truffle with it. "And you know how I enjoy challenges."

"But the Ministry? England doesn't want us. Why should you go back there?" She wrinkled her nose. "And it's the _Ministry_. You can't honestly be thinking of putting yourself into such a banal situation, can you?"

Theodore took a long moment to chew thoughtfully on the mouthful of food he had placed in his mouth. She was absolutely right. He had no intention of returning to England. At least not permanently. A visit every now and then, he was beginning to realise, wouldn't kill him. Especially if he took the time to reacquaint himself with some of the people he once (and often still) considered friends. Though he wasn't certain when he'd finally get around to making those visits. Laying his fork down on the edge of his plate, he sat back and watched a few people walk by before returning his gaze to the woman who sat nearly beside him, but not quite.

"I wasn't planning on the British Ministry," he said after a moment. "But there just so happens to be a rather important position in Norway. With the Royal Family Division."

He'd been putting out feelers for a few weeks now, making contacts with various countries to see what was available. Theodore was not a blue collar working man, but the idea of a position of power within the government of another country -- one where he could be the person that the British Ministry had to go through for any sort of reason -- was very tempting. When the owl came back from Norway that there was an opening within the RFD, his interest had been completely piqued. It wasn't necessarily a position of power. It wasn't even really a position that paid a lot. Money wasn't really his reasoning for finding employment. But the chance to rub elbows with the Oldenburg wizards, the oldest Wizarding family in Europe that just so happened to be Muggle royalty, was something even Theodore was finding very difficult to pass up.

"So you would ship me back to England so that you can flit off to some sort of snowy wasteland and do menial work that you don't really have to do?" Pansy's arms were crossed and she looked as though she was about to break her back teeth from clenching her jaw so hard.

"No."

"Leave me in Tuscany then?"

"As much as I know you would enjoy ruling over my staff with an iron fist. No."

Reaching into his pocket, Theodore pulled something out, then touched her arm, fingers moving downward until he was able to take her hand and turn it so her palm was facing up. He closed her fingers around that which he'd just removed from his coat and looked at her intently. 

In all the years he'd known her, Theodore had never seen such a completely bewildered look on Pansy's face when she uncurled her fingers. Her mouth gaped open. Gaped! And Pansy Parkinson was not one for gaping, codfish-like expressions. Lying on her palm was a ring. A delicate gold band mounted with a rather large diamond. This was not a gift between friends. And he had never intended for it to be as such. 

"Be engaged to me Pansy Parkinson," he said when she didn't speak first. It was never a question for him. It never could be merely a question, but more a healthy demand that seemed more like a statement of fact.

"But . . .we haven't. . . there haven't been. . . " It seemed as though she was at a loss for words. "You haven't even _kissed_ me, Theodore."

A smile curled his lips. "I haven't. Should that make a difference?"

"Well yes! How am I supposed to know if you're the one I should say yes to if you haven't even kissed me but once."

Their food was getting cold, but neither of them really seemed to notice. "Now that's untrue. I've kissed you many times, Pansy. Hellos and goodbyes and ringing in almost every new year."

"It's not the same."

He wondered why it would matter so much or what exactly it would change between them. "The first day I saw you, I knew we would be in each other's lives until we were old and you were searching out ways to keep the wrinkles at bay. A mere kiss isn't going to change the fact that you need me about as much as I need you."

The expression on Pansy's face was a mixture of frustration and something that he couldn't quite place. She continued to stare at the sitting on her palm. Almost as if she was offering it back to him or waiting for some random magpie to swoop down from the sky and snatch it away. Though the latter was least likely to be allowed to happen. Theodore had spent a small fortune on the ring and he was hardly going to let the likes of some dirty and possibly diseased bird steal it away. He reached out his hand to hers and watched as her fingers suddenly closed tightly around the ring.

Ah. A decision.

"Do you love me, Theodore?" She looked up at him and tilted her head with eyes that were slightly narrowed and scrutinising. "And don't give me that 'I care for you deeply because we're friends' rhetoric because I really don't want to hear that and I'd rather you didn't just consider me a friend because then this whole 'be engaged to me' question sounds more like pity than anything else and I don't know if I can ta--"

He pressed two fingers to her lips to silence her. "It has only ever been you for me," he said earnestly. "If you're not ready to answer, I can wait. I've waited for over ten years. I'm a _very_ patient man."

She raised a sceptical eyebrow and pulled back from his fingertips. "You've been waiting since you were eleven?"

"Well, I'd say eleven and a half, but yes."

"Then why won't you kiss me?" Her bottom lip pushed out slightly in a pout.

"I never wanted to do it when you were expecting me to." It took a moment to realise that his hand had dropped and was now curled over hers. They were tiny and delicate and perfectly smooth. Whether that came from years of rigorous care and moisturising potions or was just part of her naturally, he didn't know. Nor did he really care.

A sad look crossed Pansy's face, which was confusing because he had thought she would be rather happy about his honesty. "Sometimes, Theodore," she said quietly, "Sometimes I need to be kissed when I'm expecting you to."

"Ah," was his only reply.

So in the middle of the day in the medieval hilltop town of San Miniato with their pasta getting cold and truffles going to waste and with waiters bustling about the patio with pepper mills and with Muggles walking by, Theodore Nott kissed Pansy Parkinson. It was a very public display of his affection and perhaps he could have chosen a more secluded locale and he was probably leaning across his food and getting stains on his shirt, but for some reason none of that really seemed to matter.

Then he drew back because it was only proper that he give her a chance to speak or breathe. Instead of words, Pansy chose actions, fisting her free hand in the front of his shirt and pulling him towards her. This time she kissed _him_ , fiercely, as if she had been holding herself back for far too long and could finally let it out now that he had broken the strange sort of wall between them. Which he supposed that she had. It was heated and demanding. She was in charge. And somewhere in the background he could hear the other restaurant patrons' twittering whispers.

And, damn it, he didn't care.

"Shall I get the cheque?" he asked when she finally let him speak. 

"Please do."

***

He woke first the next morning, well aware that the slight weight curling up over his chest towards his neck was her arm and that her fingers were still tangled in some of the longer strands of his hair. The early morning sunlight puddled on the floor and reflected off of the buckle of his discarded belt to form patterns above the bed. He watched them creep slowly across the ceiling as he swept the tips of his fingers up and down the curve of her spine. When he was younger, Theodore had wanted to describe Pansy's skin as alabaster. Seeing every inch of it, had changed his mind completely and made alabaster seem like such a inadequate word. He couldn't even really describe it now. Alabaster was cold and too much like stone. Pansy was none of these things and he rather enjoyed that.

He knew he'd been waiting for a reason. She had always been that reason.

Her breathing pattern changed and he knew she was awake. "Theodore?"

"Yes?" He liked that she didn't call him some sort of pet name. No darlings or sweethearts or, heaven forbid, "lover" which were all just too pedestrian for what he felt was quite important between them.

"I'm going to say yes." Pansy lifted her head and looked at him, resting her chin on his chest.

"I thought you might."

"I don't want to get married," she clarified. "Not for a good long while. I think that's why Dra--"

He stopped her with a kiss. Bringing up the ex after such a night was not okay in his book. "I didn't ask you to marry me, if you recall. I asked you to be engaged to me." His hand found its way to her cheek and he brushed his thumb across her mouth.

"Good. I like the sound of _fiancée_ much better," she said. "You do know that I'm going to follow you anywhere, don't you?"

"I'm actually counting on that."

Her smile was filled with something he hadn't seen in quite some time. Joy. She had so many different masks to wear for the world. It turned out that he was glad that not all of them had been lost. Sometimes it was so easy for a Slytherin to discard parts of themselves in order to present the face they knew everyone else expected. Surprisingly, Gryffindor hadn't cornered the market on noble sacrifice. Slytherins just perfected it. Some of them managed to buck against the traditions and carve their own paths and make their own choices. Others fell in line with their families and did the bidding of those who had trod the path before them.

Theodore knew they were both the former. Pansy had just needed to realise that.


End file.
